Our Heavenly Father
does not despise it."
"Dr. Lavendar, why can't she keep him? She'll never see that scoundrel
again!"
"Do you think a woman with such a story is fit to bring up a child,
William?"
The doctor was silent.
"She thinks not, herself," said Dr. Lavendar.
"Does she?" William King said; and a minute afterwards fumbled in his
coat tails for his pocket-handkerchief. "What is she going to do?" he
asked huskily.
"She feels that she had better leave Old Chester."
"Do you think so, sir?"
Dr. Lavendar sighed. "I would like to have her here; I would like to
take care of her, for a while. But I don't think she could stand it;
on your account."
"My account!" William King pushed his chair back, and got on his feet;
"Dr. Lavendar, I--I--"
"She would feel the embarrassment of your knowledge," said the old
man.
Dr. King sat down. Then he said, "I am the last man to judge her."
"'Beginning at the eldest, even unto the last,'" murmured Dr.
Lavendar. "Shame is a curious thing, William. It's like some of your
medicines. The right amount cures. Too much kills. I've seen that with
hard drinkers. Where a drunkard is a poor, uneducated fellow, shame
gives him a good boost towards decency. But a man of education,
William, a man of opportunity--if he wakes up to what he has been
doing, shame gives him such a shove he is apt to go all round the
circle, and come up just where he started! Shame is a blessed thing,--
when you don't get too much of it.
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